


Cold Comfort

by Gypsymoon77



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3323534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gypsymoon77/pseuds/Gypsymoon77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel wants something from Dean that the hunter never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Comfort

Dean Winchester blinked awake. The hotel room was empty – should have been empty. Sam had convinced him to stay behind, to get some rest. The Mark and his seeming never-ending battle of willpower was draining him, wearing him down. Sam had insisted he would be fine questioning the locals on his own. He had left and Dean had stretched out out on the lumpy mattress and listened to an afternoon thunderstorm roll in across the Midwestern town. And he had fallen asleep.

The room was dark now, but the lights from the parking lot shone in through the thin, grimy curtains, and Dean realized he was no longer alone.

“You know, it's really creepy, you sitting there and watching me sleep.”

“I did not want to wake you,” offered Castiel, his voice completely unrepentant.

“Still creepy,” muttered Dean, roughly rubbing his tired eyes. He reached over and clicked on the lamp on the side table next to the bed. Castiel blinked owlishly down at him. “How long have I been out?” asked Dean, his hand fumbling for his phone.

“I've been here two hours,” replied Castiel, watching as Dean struggled upright, propping himself up against the pillows. “You were sound asleep when I arrived.”

“Huh,” answered Dean, feeling groggy and disheveled from his nap. He unlocked his phone and checked for texts. Sam was following up a lead and then getting a bite to eat. Dean's stomach growled. He looked up, ready to suggest they head out to dinner, when he realized that Castiel had used his momentary distraction to inch closer to him. “What?” he scowled at his friend.

“You are tired,” Castiel offered as if the statement perfectly explained his actions.

“I'm always tired lately,” Dean replied, his voice flat. He frowned as Castiel scooted closer again.

“I could help -” he began, but Dean cut him off.

“No. No angel mojo. Your grace is leaking or fading or whatever, anyway.” He stopped, biting his lower lip. He may be obsessed with removing the Mark from his arm, but in the back his mind was the niggling reminder that his best friend was dying. Sam had told him how rough Cas had gotten before the latest dose of stolen grace. The thought of Cas slowing wasting away while he was off mindlessly partying with Crowley made him feel ill.

“That is not what I meant,” corrected Castiel, drawing Dean's attention back to their current conversation.

He reached out and picked up Dean's hand, rotating his arm and placing it in his lap. The Mark of Cain stared up at them from Dean's exposed forearm. Castiel trailed his fingertips across the angry red welts of the Mark and Dean tried to pull his hand away. He felt embarrassed, not from Cas' light touch, but because he didn't want the angel to see the Mark. It was bad enough that they both knew it was there. Castiel gripped his wrist and refused to let him pull back.

“Cas, let go,” he grumbled, his eyes darting away from the angel. There was no way that Castiel could want to sit there and tolerate touching that blemish that seared both Dean's body and soul. He couldn't voice what he was thinking: that Castiel must think he was disgusting.

“No, I will not,” stated the angel simply with a tone of finality in his voice. He ran his fingertips from the Mark down Dean's arm to his pulsepoint over his wrist. Dean's eyes darted back toward him. Cas's lips twitched upward into a small, enigmatic smile. He met Dean's eyes and his smile widened. “I have read that humans find physical contact comforting.” He traced odd, invisible symbols along the skin of Dean's wrist.

“Okay, seriously, let go,” snapped Dean, snatching his hand back and cradling it across his stomach to hide the Mark from sight. “I don't need your comfort, Cas.” There was a pause, and then he continued. “Besides, it tickled,” he amended under his breath, trying to lessen the rejection.

Castiel tilted his head to the side in that funny little way of his. “I don't understand...”

“Not surprised,” Dean interrupted, but Castiel persisted.

“You often seek physical comfort from strangers, and that is only temporary....”

“Cas, there is a big difference between _that_ and _this_.” Castiel stared at him for a moment, his blue eyes wide and innocent. Dean sighed dramatically, embarrassed that he was going to have to spell it out. “There is a difference between me having sex with a woman for whatever motivations I may have and for you to try to fulfill some perceived psychological need of mine with....”

“Sex,” supplied Castiel to finish his sentence.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Wait, were you _propositioning me_?” asked Dean in disbelief.

Castiel blushed and looked away. “I suppose I was not straightforward enough.”

“You were trying to _seduce_ me?”

Cas hunched his shoulders and clasped his hands in his laps. “I...I am not very good at it.” He dared a glance at Dean, giving him a hesitant, shy smile. “I do not have much experience.”

Dean replayed the past few moments in his head, filtering Castiel's actions through this new found knowledge. He felt his cheeks heating up and he shifted uncomfortably. Castiel sighed and turned away.

“This...has not gone as planned.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“I am dying, Dean...”

“So, what, now you're trying to guilt me into having sex with you?” barked Dean, his eyebrows furrowing. His heart was beating hard in his chest as he stared angrily at his friend.

“No!” protested Castiel, looking at him with pleading blue eyes. “Now that I am no longer human....I...I miss sex,” he admitted somewhat embarrassed. “I had thought....”

“That just because I have one-night stands I would be more than happy to oblige you?” sneered Dean, surprised to find that it actually hurt that Cas would want nothing more than a quick fling from him.

“Dammit, Dean!” yelled Castiel, startling the hunter from his anger. “I am lonely, and I am scared, and I missed you when you were gone...” He trailed off and took a shaking breath. “I had thought....”

“Thought what?” he snapped back, trying to build back up his anger, to use it as a defense against the sadness in Castiel's eyes.

Dean often forgot that Castiel was not human. He was nerdy-looking and goofy, and even with his recent displays of power, he was so unassuming that Dean thought of him as the best friend that he needed to protect. So he was more than surprised when Castiel moved so quickly. One moment he was sitting on the edge of the bed and then he was straddling Dean's lap, his hand gripping Dean's chin. Before the hunter could protest, Castiel tilted his chin back and forced their mouths together.

His lips tasted like honey. ' _Of course, they do_ ', Dean thought lazily as Castiel relaxed his grip. There was no need to continue to force Dean's chin up. The hunter was willingly kissing back. He reached up, grabbing the collar of Castiel's coat and pulling him closer. The angel smelt like the air after a thunderstorm. Cas broke the kiss and leaned back slightly to run his tongue across Dean's lips. Dean groaned.

A jolt shot through his arm from the Mark, burning through him, and Dean shoved Castiel away. The angel fell backward, staring at his friend with wide eyes. Dean hastily moved away, pressing his spine into the headboard of the bed. His breath was coming in deep, desperate gulps that had nothing to do with the kiss they had shared.

“Dean?”

“Shut up!” he barked, taking deep, steadying breaths. He pressed his thumb into the Mark; he could feel it inside his skull, trying to take the already confusing emotions swirling around his head and twist them into something dark and filthy. _'No, you can't have this_ ,' he thought angrily, shoving the Mark's influence from his mind. 

Castiel sat patiently at the end of the bed, his eyes fixed on Dean while he watched the other man's internal struggle. The hunter let out a shuddering sigh and then the tension released from his shoulder's as the Mark's influence abated. There was a flutter, and Castiel was gone, only to reappear almost instantly with a cup of water in his hand.

“Drink,” he commanded.

Dean took the cup with shaking hands and sipped nervously. Castiel sat back down next to him. The shy, boyish look that had lit up his eyes earlier was replaced with his usual stoic coolness. Dean preferred his angel bumbling and goofy.

“It tried to...”he began to explain, desperate for Cas to understand that he hadn't been rejected.

“I know,” answered Castiel cutting him off. His eyes dropped to the Mark and they turned a dark, stormy color.

Dean felt unease clench his stomach as a thought crossed his mind. “Please tell me that all wasn't just to see how the Mark would react...” He glared at his friend. “I swear, Cas, if you made me act like an idiot....”

Castiel sat up straighter at the accusation. “No! It was my intention to have sex with you, not to experiment with how Mark interacts with different mental states.”

Dean let out incredulous laugh. “You are really smooth, you know that, Cas?”

Castiel broke out into a grin. “Thank you,” he replied, misunderstanding Dean's sarcasm as a compliment. The hunter rolled his eyes, causing the angel to laugh.

“What?”

Cas shot him a coy smile. “I have seduced Dean Winchester,” he commented smugly with a superior look.

Dean snorted. “Whatever. We made out for five seconds,” he retorted, trying to downplay what had just happened between them.

Castiel's eyes grew stormy once more and he leaned in, dropping his voice low. “Yes, and once we remove this Mark from your body, I am going to fuck you senseless,” he promised.

Dean choked on the sip of water he had just taken. Castiel grinned again, looking rather pleased with himself. He stood. “I will leave you now. Tell Sam I said hello.”

“What? What the _hell_ , Castiel!?” Dean gasped, staring in disbelief at his friend.

Cas lips tilted up into a sly smile that caused a rather funny and not-all-together unpleasant reaction to course through Dean's body. “Good night, Dean,” he said softly, and then turned and left the hotel room.

Dean stared at the door through which his best friend had just exited. His mind flashed back to the feel of Cas' weight on top of him and the taste of the angel's lips against his. He sighed at his body's inevitable reaction to the memory.

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed.

 


End file.
